


Just An Asset

by Aini_NuFire



Series: More Than [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arthur Ketch Being an Asshole, BAMF Winchesters (Supernatural), Case Fic, Castiel Whump, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: When Ketch informs the Winchesters that Mary went missing on a hunt, they team up to find and save her. But his irreverent treatment of Cas might end up putting the angel in even worse danger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on another prompt from Miyth of Ketch working with the boys to find Mary and treating Cas like crap. The fact that it's a sequel to your other prompt is just a fun yet fitting coincidence. *g*
> 
> Also, I'm going to be posting a one shot tomorrow. I know Tuesday's not my normal one shot day, but with the Raising Amy chapters having become such a regular Wednesday thing, I thought I'd spread updates out a bit, especially when the standalone fics are long.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

 

Dean stared at the board of news clippings, maps, and Kelly Kline's picture that was set up in the war room. Only a week ago he'd grumbled about Cas not finding any leads on Rosemary and her baby, but after joining the search himself, they still had nothing. Seriously, how did this woman with no resources just drop off the map like this?

"Yeah, okay, thanks," Sam said, cell pressed to his ear where he sat at the map table. He set the phone down with a clunk. "So, Tony said he looked into the cattle deaths out in Bakersfield, and it was just a run-of-the-mill demon. No sign of Kelly."

Dean shook his head in frustration and removed the thumbtack they'd stuck on that part of the map when they'd first caught wind of the typical demonic omen. Another non-lead.

Cas came into the room, bearing two cups of steaming coffee. He handed one to Dean.

"Bakersfield was a bust," Sam informed him.

"I heard," Cas replied, and handed Sam the second cup.

The angel was doing that kind of thing a lot lately, now that he'd fully recovered from the spell that had exorcised and nearly killed him. It'd taken quite a few doses of soul energy from Dean and Sam to get him back on his feet, but neither Winchester regretted that. Dean just hoped Cas's recent attentiveness was more out of brotherly reciprocation, and not a sense of debt.

"We're chasing our tails here," he grumbled. They needed another approach, though he had no clue what that might be.

Cas let out a long, weary sounding sigh. "Perhaps as the nephilim grows there will be more…signs."

Sam grimaced.

Yeah, more signs didn't mean things like rainbows or money falling from the sky. And the closer Lucifer's baby came to term, the more complicated the situation would get. They didn't even know when the thing was due to pop.

The upstairs door grating open interrupted any further talk on the problem, however. Dean instinctively tensed because everyone who lived in the bunker was already there…

His spine went rigid even as his jaw fell slack at the sight of Ketch strolling across the causeway. Sam surged to his feet with equal alarm.

"What the…how the hell did you get in here?" Dean demanded.

Ketch paused at the top of the stairs, flicking an unbothered look back at the door. "I have a key," he said matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

Ketch frowned. "Well, this is a Men of Letters bunker…my key opens all the chapter houses across the world. As does yours."

Dean's brows shot upward. Wait, seriously?

"What are you doing here?" Cas asked with unbridled suspicion.

"Yeah," Dean added. "Just because you have a key doesn't mean you can just come barging into our home."

"Technically, it's my home too," the man replied with that posh accent as he descended the steps. "But I'm here because I need your help."

Sam raised his own brows dubiously. "Our help?"

"I believe the matter would concern you," Ketch said. "You see, your mother was on a hunt recently and has gone missing."

Dean just stared at the Brit for a frozen beat, having trouble processing that. Once his brain caught up, however, the fury erupted. "How the hell do you know what our mom's been up to?"

Ketch arched a manicured brow. "Oh, didn't she tell you? Mary has been working with us for the past several weeks."

Dean exchanged a bewildered look with Sam.  _What?_

They'd known Mom had been hunting again, which seemed weird since she'd wanted out of the life, but no, she'd never said  _anything_  about working with the British Men of Letters dicks. They'd tortured Sam and tried to kill the rest of them, for crying out loud! And fine, maybe they'd provided the device that helped them finally bag Lucifer, and helped Cas and Mom find Dean and Sam when they escaped the government detention facility, but that did not make up for the other stuff.

How could she team up with them like that? And not tell her own sons?

Dean pushed his questions and feelings of hurt and betrayal aside as he returned to the one salient detail that mattered at the moment, and that was Mom was missing.

"What was she hunting?" he asked.

"Well, that's the problem," Ketch hedged. "We weren't sure what the monster was, only that people were going missing. We sent Mary to investigate. I would have gone with her, but I was cleaning up another matter and she insisted she could handle it." He paused, a glint in his eyes. "Your mother is quite…impressive."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the douchebag, and suddenly wanted to throw up.

"Where did she go missing?" Cas spoke up.

"La Clure, Virginia," Ketch answered. "So I suggest we get going."

Dean gritted his teeth. He didn't really relish the thought of working with this asshat, but Mom was in trouble. Even though she didn't seem to want to be part of his and Sam's lives, she was still their mom.

And that meant Dean would drop everything to find her.

* * *

La Clure, Virginia was a coastal town with a major harbor for shrimping boats. Which meant that every restaurant window had a sign boasting the "best" seafood in the area, albeit each with their own signature twist.

Sam stood leaning against the Impala outside the diner they'd stopped at to change into their FBI threads. He and Dean, anyway. Cas of course didn't need to change. And Ketch was also always wearing a suit, even under his motorcycle jacket. He didn't even have helmet hair after the long drive. Whatever.

While they were waiting for Dean to come out, Sam piggybacked the diner's WiFi and started going through local news reports. Three people had gone missing over the past month, no bodies recovered. Which probably ruled out vampire or werewolf, since those monsters didn't tend to clean up after themselves so well. Still, they couldn't dismiss those for certain yet.

The diner's door opened and Dean stepped out. "Shrimp burger, really?" he said dubiously. "Why would you pair shrimp with beef?"

Sam briefly looked up to throw his brother a disbelieving look. "Says the guy who ate the Elvis and  _liked_  it."

Dean paused, but then canted his head in acknowledgement.

"We're not here to sample the local cuisine," Ketch interjected testily.

"Relax," Dean rejoined. "We know how to do our job."

"Okay, get this," Sam said, scrolling through a recent article. "A local was attacked in the woods around the time that Mom went missing. There's only speculation on what did it; guy was apparently unable to give much of a statement."

"But he's alive?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Was treated for minor injuries and shock at the hospital before being released. Hang on…" Sam opened another browser window, did some quick hacking. "Got his address."

"Alright, we'll start there," Dean said. He took one step toward the Impala, but then spun around and fixed Ketch with a fierce look. "And we'll handle the talking."

The Brit merely arched a brow and shrugged it off as though it didn't matter to him one way or the other.

They drove separately to the victim's house. Ketch's bike made as much of a ruckus as the Impala, and Sam had never felt more out of place as "FBI agents" then he did now. It was a wonder they didn't get called on their choice of transportation more often. Not that they couldn't talk their way out of anything. Or into anything.

Sam got his badge ready as he knocked on the victim's door. It was opened by a young woman in a loose fitting sweater and hair pulled back in a messy bun. She immediately frowned upon seeing four men on her doorstep.

"Yes?" she asked nervously, one arm drifting up to her neck in a self-conscious gesture.

"Hi," Sam replied. "We're with the FBI. We're looking into a series of missing persons cases in the area, and we understand that a Jason Hart was attacked in the woods. Is he here?"

"He's my boyfriend," she said. "The police already talked to him."

"I know," Sam gently coaxed. "And I know this is a difficult time, but we really need to hear what happened from Jason."

"He doesn't remember much."

"Whatever he does remember could really help us," Dean put in. "Another person has gone missing."

She bit her bottom lip, but stepped back and held the door open for them. "Jason's in the living room."

Sam gave her a thankful nod as he moved past and into the den, the others following behind. Four definitely felt like a crowd.

Jason was a young man in his 20s, though the bags under his eyes and stress lines around his mouth made him look older. He was dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, hair mussed, and there was a pile of tangled blankets on the couch next to him. An array of tiny scratches covered his face and arms.

"Mr. Hart?" Sam greeted. "I'm Agent Hathaway, FBI. These are my colleagues. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Jason shifted on the sofa as though thinking about standing, but either he changed his mind or couldn't muster the energy. "I'm sorry, agents, I really don't have anything to tell you."

"Let's start with the last thing you remember doing before the attack," Sam suggested.

Jason shook his head in clear frustration. "I went for a run on the beach like I always do."

"And?"

"And that's the last thing I remember."

Dean frowned. "But you were found off the highway in the woods, two miles inland."

"Well, I have no idea how I got there," Jason snipped. "The next thing I knew, I was in the back of an ambulance." He dropped his head into his hands, fingers digging into his scalp.

Sam gave him a sympathetic grimace. He'd obviously been traumatized.

Ketch cleared his throat. "Agents, may I have a word?"

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, but nevertheless followed Ketch back out into the foyer while Jason's girlfriend moved in to comfort him.

Ketch looked pointedly at Cas and lowered his voice. "Angel, just read his mind and get the information we need."

Sam shot him an incredulous look. "What? That's a little invasive, don't you think?"

"We're not getting anywhere with this. Your mother could be in grave danger."

"Don't lecture us about our mom," Dean snapped under his breath. "And his name is Cas." Softening his tone, he turned to said angel. "Can you do that?"

Cas's mouth pinched. "Yes."

"Great," Ketch said. "Then hop to it."

Sam's gaze hardened on the Brit; he was developing a strong dislike for Arthur Ketch.

The lines around Cas's eyes tightened as he delivered his own glower, but he turned without another word and walked back into the living room.

Jason looked up expectantly. "I'm sorry, I really do wish I could help."

"There's a…special technique, I'd like to try," Cas said hesitantly, coming to stand before him.

Jason quirked a confused look up at him. "Meaning what?"

Cas rolled his shoulder. "Um…"

"Hypnosis," Dean put in. "Or something like it. Just close your eyes and think back to that moment where you're running on the beach."

"Yes," Cas picked up, shooting Dean a grateful glance. "Visualize yourself running on the beach."

Ketch rolled his eyes impatiently. "You don't need the facade," he hissed in Sam's ear. "The angel can just erase their memories once finished."

Sam clenched his fist. "Just shut up," he muttered back. He gestured for the girlfriend to step away and give Jason some space, which she did, albeit reluctantly.

"Good," Cas said in a calm intonation. "Just keep that image. Your feet pounding out a steady rhythm in the sand. The sound of the ocean's waves."

Sam watched Jason's shoulders gradually loosen and his breathing even out. Cas then raised two fingers to the man's forehead.

"Tell me what you see," Cas instructed.

"I see…the beach," Jason replied. "And the waves, like you said. It's overcast."

"What kind of technique is this?" the girlfriend asked.

"Tactile anchoring," Sam answered.

She looked doubtful, and crossed her arms.

Cas pulled back a minute later, and Jason blinked up at him.

"Uh, I still didn't remember anything…"

"That's alright," Cas assured him. "Sometimes the method can have a delayed effect. Call if anything comes to mind."

Dean withdrew one of their business cards and handed it to Jason. Both he and his girlfriend continued to give them bewildered looks as they excused themselves and made their way outside.

"What did you see?" Ketch demanded as soon as they'd returned to the curb where their vehicles were parked.

Cas sighed. "Unfortunately, the trauma of what he experienced has left his mind a jumbled mess. All I was able to see of his memories were flashes, but they did include a blond woman dragging him through the woods before being ripped away." He paused. "I believe that was Mary. Jason Hart then tripped and fell down an incline onto the highway where he was discovered."

Sam sucked in a breath. "So Mom must have rescued him from whatever's been snatching people."

"And it sounds like it got her instead," Dean growled.

"I suggest our next stop be your mother's hotel room," Ketch said. "Perhaps she was able to gather information on what she was hunting before being taken."

Sam shared a look with his brother; it was a good next move.

Dean grumbled something unintelligible, then straightened sharply. "Wait, how do you know where she was staying?"

"She used a Men of Letters credit card, of course."

Sam couldn't say why that curdled his stomach. Mom was working with the Brits, which meant she got to use all their fancy toys and resources. It shouldn't bother him.

But it did.

Ketch led the way on his motorcycle to a hotel a block from the beach. When they pulled into the parking lot, both Sam and Dean stared at the establishment in slack-jawed awe—it had a freakin' fountain in the courtyard and potted plants by the double glass doors to the lobby. This was the kind of place that served breakfast that wasn't tiny boxes of dry cereal and coffee in cardboard cartons. Neither of them had ever stayed in a place this nice.

"Wow," Dean uttered. "Guess all this time I've been worrying about Mom hunting, and she's living life better than us."

Sam frowned at his brother's tone, but then Dean was exiting the Impala, followed by Cas. Sam scrambled out after them.

"Isn't that Mom's car?" he asked, nodding to the blue coupe parked a few spaces down.

Dean's jaw visibly tightened. "Yeah."

"I'll go see about procuring an additional key to her room," Ketch said.

"This place strikes me as the type to require more than fake FBI credentials," Cas said doubtfully.

"Of course. But my name is also on the account used to rent it," Ketch replied as though that were obvious.

Cas squinted after the man as he strode toward the lobby.

"I can't believe Mom is working with that douche," Dean groused.

"Just because she's working with him doesn't mean she likes him," Sam said, but the protest was half-hearted. After all, why work with someone you didn't like? Why work with the British Men of Letters at all?

Well, for Sam and Dean, at least, they didn't have a choice. They trailed after Ketch into the fancy hotel and waited while he spoke to a clerk behind the receptionist counter. A few moments later, he turned around and raised his eyebrows at the three of them, then headed toward the elevator. They followed.

Mom's room was on the second floor, and Sam was immediately struck with how…luxurious, it looked. Like, this was not the type of place hunters set up base at on a hunt. Yeah, money was often a factor for the Winchesters, but it wasn't just that. Hunts were messy and grimy and often bloody, and you couldn't just waltz back into a place with real security cameras and pristine white bed sheets to clean up afterward.

Dean was also gazing around the room distastefully, likely thinking the same. There was an open suitcase on one of those foldout benches, a hair dryer on the sink, still plugged into the wall. And on the small round table in the corner were lots of papers and lore books.

"Why don't you two start going through Mary's notes while I take the angel out to where this recent victim was found," Ketch said. "Try to retrace his path through the woods."

Dean stiffened, eyes darkening. "Excuse me? He's not a bloodhound. And for the last time, his  _name_  is Cas."

Ketch rolled his eyes. "Fine, yes. But we need to be exhausting every avenue. Your mother could be running out of time."

Sam's chest burned with blossoming ire. He was getting really tired of Ketch holding their mom's life over their heads, like they didn't get how serious this was, or want to do everything in their power to get her back.

"Then me and Cas can go, and you help Sam with research," Dean said.

"We're wasting time arguing."

"Then don't argue."

"It's fine, Dean," Cas spoke up. "I will go with him."

"Excellent," Ketch said. He scooped a set of car keys off the dresser. "We can take Mary's car. Do call if you find anything," he said to the brothers as he headed for the door.

Sam gritted his teeth. Ketch's treatment of Cas was infuriating, but he seemed to treat everyone else not far above servants, too.

Dean grabbed Cas's arm as the angel started to follow. "Cas, why are you putting up with that crap?" he hissed.

Cas's mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I will put up with it if it helps us find Mary. And once we get her back, I won't have to put up with it anymore."

Dean huffed. "Just, watch your back. I don't trust the guy."

"He has been helpful in the past," Cas pointed out, but then his expression softened in understanding. "And I will be careful."

With that, he turned and headed out after the British dickbag.

Sam didn't like it any more than his brother did, but Cas was right; they had to find Mom before it was too late. He turned his attention to the notes on the table.

"I can't believe she didn't tell us," Dean muttered as he started picking through the papers.

Sam's chest constricted. He was hurt and confused by Mom's actions too, but he'd always had a little bit of distance, having never known her before. Dean was the one who'd had a harder time reconciling the woman who'd been resurrected with the mom in his memories.

"She must have had a reason," Sam offered.

Dean snorted. "A good reason to lie to us? A good reason to work with the bastards that tortured you? Yeah, I'd love to hear what reason she had for that."

Sam suppressed a sigh. Things were not gonna be easy once this was over.

But the important thing was they get Mom back first. Then they could deal with the emotional fallout of recent revelations.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first time a mid-season finale hasn't left me in dread, but only super excited to see where it goes.
> 
> Speaking of dread, I know you were all worried about Cas and Ketch, so let's see what they're up to...

Castiel had endured some awkward car rides in his time on Earth, but this was by far the worst. Ketch may have been a mere mortal man, yet he maintained an attitude of utter superiority and haughtiness that far exceeded his species's right to be. Castiel could think of only one other being with that caliber of ego…and Ketch made Crowley seem like a preferable companion in comparison.

They drove out of town and down the highway through the woods until they found the spot where Jason Hart had been picked up after a motorist discovered him lying on the side of the road. Ketch pulled Mary's car onto the shoulder and parked it. Castiel idly wondered whether she was as protective of her vehicle as Dean, though he didn't think she'd mind if coming out here helped them locate her.

He really hoped she was still alive. Castiel didn't want to think about how losing her again would devastate the Winchester brothers.

He exited the car and went to the tree line, surveying the area.

Ketch came to stand beside him. "Sense anything,  _Cas_?" he asked, sneering the last word.

Castiel clenched his jaw, struck with an irrational urge to punch this man.

Or maybe not so irrational.

"My friends call me that," he replied tightly. "To you, I'm Castiel. And yes, there's a trail of broken branches up this way." He moved off to follow it, hearing Ketch utter under his breath,

"Ah, I do love an angel."

Castiel bristled, but reminded himself why he was out here with this neanderthal. For Mary. For Sam and Dean.

Still, the harsh reminder that the world and anyone in it who knew about the supernatural viewed him as a monster, or a tool, hit a little close to home. Yes, Sam and Dean had been trying to assure Castiel recently that they didn't care about that, that he was family to them, despite not being human. And that helped, it did, to know he at least had a home somewhere where he was accepted for who he was. But outside that home, he was…just an angel.

Castiel almost smirked bitterly. There had once been a time when angels had been revered. Fierce, commanding of respect. There had once been a time where Castiel could have shaken walls and summoned lightning and made Ketch tremble on his knees in fear.

But not anymore. The demise of angels and the rise of supernatural tech had paved the way for people like the British Men of Letters to have the ability to subdue the divine.

Castiel was not unaware of the role he'd played contributing to this paradigm shift. So it only seemed fitting he also bear the brunt of its results.

He paused at the top of the incline and gazed around the woods, eyes narrowed as he took in every leaf and twig, searching for signs of a disturbance. Something metallic glinted several yards away under a bush. Castiel strode toward it and crouched down. It was a gun. He picked it up and showed it to Ketch, whose mouth thinned.

"It's Mary's."

Castiel roved his gaze around the immediate area, then frowned as he spotted a patch of green that didn't fit with the natural flora.

"Is that kelp?" Ketch asked.

"Yes," Castiel replied. But what was it doing this far away from the shore? He shifted again. "And blood." There were several globs of it on the ground, dark, almost to be mistaken for sap.

"Human?"

Castiel leaned over it and took a whiff. He frowned. "No. I can't tell what creature it belongs to." Which was strange. Castiel sniffed again. "It…smells like brine." Even more curious.

Ketch squatted down and produced an evidence tube from the inside of his jacket. Using a plastic pick attached to the inside of the lid, he scooped some of the viscous fluid into the container and then capped it.

"It seems Mary got a good hit in when the creature took her."

Castiel furrowed his brow, but didn't argue the assumption. It wasn't an unlikely one.

Ketch stood. "Is there a trail?"

Castiel rose to his feet as well and ventured a little further into the woods. After several moments, he shook his head in frustration. "The trail thins out four yards ahead."

"Then we should head back and regroup. At least we have something more to go on," he said, holding up the tube of blood.

They returned to the car and then drove back to the hotel where Sam and Dean were still going through the research. Both brothers looked up as they walked in the door.

"Anything?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel, but it was Ketch who answered.

"We appear to be dealing with some kind of marine creature."

"A sea witch," Sam confirmed, holding up the book he was reading. "That's what Mom was narrowing down to in her notes, anyway. The good news is they don't kill their victims right away. The bad news is I can't find anything on how to gank one."

"One of the classics should do the trick," Dean said. "Angel blade, decapitation."

"Agreed," Ketch said, pulling out the evidence vial. "And this is how we'll locate it."

Sam frowned. "What is that?"

"The creature's blood," the Brit replied. "I can use it to perform a locater spell. I just need some frankincense and an angel feather." He turned to give Castiel an expectant look.

Castiel was surprised that he could still be taken aback by this man's audacity. Ketch wanted Castiel to just hand over a feather? As though it were a simple matter to pluck one out. Which, it would have been, years ago when his wings were whole and hale. Now they were bare bones and mangled, and those feathers still clinging to their shafts would be painful to remove.

"We have some angel feathers in the trunk," Sam spoke up, voice thick with something indecipherable.

Ketch shook his head. "The more recently harvested, the more potent it will be for the spell."

Dean's face started turning an unflattering shade of puce. " _Harvested_?"

"Yes," Ketch replied simply. "When you have such a valuable asset at your disposable, you make use of it. Do you want the best chance at saving your mother or not?"

"Why you…" Dean took a step forward, but Castiel moved to intercept him.

"It's fine, Dean," he managed to grit out.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as he glared at Ketch, but then he glanced at Castiel. "You sure?"

Castiel nodded stiffly. "Yes. Just, um, give me a moment."

He stepped away and went into the bathroom. He wouldn't have to manifest his wings for this, so the brothers wouldn't have to see the state of them, but Castiel still felt the need for privacy. He could hear Dean's aggravated voice through the closed door.

"You're a real piece of work."

"I must admit I am flummoxed by your rather unnatural attachment. An angel is not a family pet."

"No, he's  _not_." That was Sam.

Castiel closed his eyes and shut them all out. Turning his focus inward, he followed the tendrils of grace running up through his wings. Though they were incorporeal, he tucked the echoes of their shape close around him, and reached one hand to grasp hold of a single feather that wasn't maimed. Castiel took a deep breath, held it, and yanked.

Searing pain shot up through the shaft into his nerves, stealing a gasp from his throat. He breathed through his nose and rode it out until the burn subsided to a dull throb.

Castiel opened his palm and used the fading connection of grace still in the feather to manifest it into a solid plume. It was a shiny obsidian color, sleek and rich, a rare example of Castiel's former glory.

He had to resist the urge to clench his fist around the feather, lest he crush it. This was not the first sacrifice of this kind he had made for the Winchesters, nor did he anticipate it being the last.

Castiel emerged from the bathroom to find the others standing around tensely, the Winchesters shooting dark glowers at Ketch. Castiel marched over to the Brit and slapped the feather onto the table in front of him. "Here."

He then retreated to the corner and crossed his arms to watch as the Man of Letters performed the locator spell. Ketch poured the blood and frankincense in a bowl, then set the feather on top. After reciting a litany in Latin, the contents began to glow. There was a puff of smoke, and Ketch closed his eyes, forehead creasing with intense concentration.

"Ah," he finally said after several moments, opening his eyes. "I have it. A sea cave, naturally."

Sam narrowed his eyes in doubt. "And you know where it is?"

"Yes. Shall we?" There was an almost inappropriate spring in his step as he headed for the door.

"Let's get this done," Dean muttered, turning to follow after him.

Castiel agreed one hundred and ten percent.

* * *

Thankfully, he did not have to ride in the car with the obnoxious man again; Ketch took Mary's vehicle, and Dean, Sam, and Castiel followed in the Impala after the men had changed out of their suits into more comfortable hunting attire. They then took the scenic route along the coast until Ketch pulled over onto a gravel patch of land at a vista point.

"We'll have to hike down from here," he informed them when they'd all exited their vehicles.

No one responded to that. Dean went around and popped the Impala's trunk so he and Sam could arm themselves with a variety of weapons. Castiel felt the weight of his angel blade just on the edge of the ethereal plane and ready to materialize in an instant. Ketch, for his part, seemed content with the pistol in his shoulder holster just under his leather jacket.

There was a set of rickety wooden stairs at the end of the lot that led down to the beach, and that's where Ketch headed. The rest of the them followed. Castiel's trench coat billowed in the breeze off the water, and the air was sticky with salt. There was no one else this far out, the beach an empty stretch of sand and seaweed.

Ketch drew to a stop and pointed to a bunch of craggy rocks just ahead. "There."

Castiel squinted, and could make out a camouflaged cleft that opened up into the darkened interior of a sea cave. He took the lead now, storming forward with ignited purpose. There was a good chance Mary was in there.

The tunnel had an eerie turquoise glow that gave just enough light for the humans to see by. As the rock walls began to open up into a cavern, Castiel pulled up short. In the middle of the cave dwelling cluttered with a variety of trinkets and ocean objects was a driftwood altar—on which Mary was laid out. She was bound in a large fishing net, unmoving, though Castiel could see her eyes were open. Not dead, though.

The sea witch was dressed in rags that reeked of brine and the sulfur of algae, and bits of seashells and crabs clung to her frizzy hair. She loomed over Mary, holding a piece of shiny sea glass in one hand. The hag leaned forward and made a swift nick on Mary's arm. The woman hunter didn't even cry out. Castiel was horrified to see she was covered in a myriad of similar small cuts from glass woven into the hemp, but then his heart leaped into his throat when the slice the witch just made began to glow. The witch bent her head down and took a deep breath, inhaling a wisp of blueish energy. Castiel had seen this kind of life leeching before.

He heard a sharp gasp behind him, and before he could do anything, Dean and Sam were barging in to attack the witch. Dean whipped out his gun and shot the hag in the chest, causing her to stagger backwards with a shriek. Sam drew an angel blade and charged forward to finish the job.

"Cas!" Dean shouted. "Get Mom!"

Castiel rushed to Mary's side and ripped the fishing net off of her. She didn't react, glassy eyes staring dazedly up at nothing. Her pallor was deathly pale, breaths shallow. Castiel wouldn't be able to heal this kind of magical injury quickly.

Ketch appeared on the other side of the altar and started pulling Mary off it into his arms. "I've got her. Go!"

In this instance, Castiel did not object to following the command, as Sam's cry suddenly rang through the cave as he was tossed through the air. Dean followed a split second later, both of them crashing against the rock walls and tumbling to the ground.

Castiel dropped his blade into his hand and surged forward. The sea hag spun around and snarled at him, baring teeth as jagged as the sea glass littering her abode. He swiped at her and she leaped backward, yet not without receiving a slash across her arm. She screeched again and darted away from him. Sam and Dean stumbled to their feet and started to hem her in.

Cheeks puffing with rage, the witch snatched two halves of a clam shell off a nearby shelf. Her eyes glowed green and she raised her arms, slamming the pieces together above her head. A shockwave exploded outward, catching Castiel in the chest and throwing him back against the rocks. They cracked under the impact, raining down silt from the ceiling. Sam and Dean were thrown across the cave floor as well, and Ketch was knocked to the ground with Mary.

The walls shook, and another great crack rent the air, followed by a shudder. Castiel staggered upright just as the roof of the tunnel came crashing down, completely filling the exit with rocks and boulders. Dust billowed through the air, clogging Castiel's nose and mouth. Blinking it from his eyes, he hurriedly sought out the Winchesters, and spotted their silhouettes rising from the ground, could hear their coughing. He whirled toward Mary and Ketch next, who had been close to escape when the ceiling caved in, but they were clear of the rocks. Mary was still limp in Ketch's arms where they sat in a tangled heap on the floor.

Crunching glass had Castiel whipping around in search of the sea hag. Dean had apparently seen her first, and was moving forward again. But then a dark object came flying through the air and struck him square in the chest. Castiel's heart seized. "Dean!"

He leaped toward the older Winchester, who was blinking down at the thing sticking to his sternum. As Castiel reached him, he noticed it was a dark blue sea urchin whose spicules had pierced Dean's chest, though surely not deep enough to reach any organs.

"Dean!" Sam echoed Castiel's earlier cry, and arrived in time to grab his brother's arm as Dean started to sink to the ground. "What the- Cas!"

Castiel ripped the urchin off Dean and tossed it aside, but its effects had already taken hold. A poison perhaps, or sedation, as the hunter's eyes had gone glassy and entranced, similar to Mary's condition.

Sam cursed, and started hauling Dean back toward Ketch and Mary. Castiel gripped Dean's other arm and helped. They were only a few feet away before a puff of breath punched from Sam's throat and his eyes flew wide. Castiel jerked ramrod straight at the sea urchin sticking out of the younger Winchester's arm. Sam began to collapse as well. Castiel tried to catch him, and barely managed to slide both brothers to the ground gently. Their heads lolled dazedly, eyelids slowly blinking as though captivated by some dreamless vision.

Somewhere in the dark alcoves of the cavern, the witch cackled.

Ketch lashed out a hand to grab Castiel's wrist. "You have to transport us out of here!"

"I can't fly," he snapped out of helplessness and fear. Didn't the man realize Castiel would get them out if he could?

Ketch's eyes turned to steel. "But you can send the rest of us."

Castiel gaped at him incredulously. Send the rest of them…oh. Well, yes, Castiel supposed that was possible, like when he'd sent Dean ahead to Sam in that church while he stayed behind to hold off Raphael. It wasn't the same as flying someone as a passenger…though the power did still come from a flap of his wings. Maybe, if he didn't try for a large distance…

But it would weaken him.

"I'll kill the witch," he said, and tried to pull away.

Ketch's fingernails dug into his flesh. "Mary is  _dying_ ," he hissed. "And the witch might be draining the life out of the Winchesters right in front of us. Can you really kill it in time to save them?"

Castiel hesitated. Yes, of course he could. But…what if he was wrong? The hag was powerful. And cunning. Even now, she wasn't pressing the attack, though he could hear her shuffling around in the darkness. Perhaps Ketch was right, and she was somehow draining Sam and Dean of their life energy. But what guarantee was there that sending them away would break the spell?

One thing was for certain, however, and that was if they stayed, they would be in even worse danger. And he was afraid he wouldn't be able to protect them all and defeat the witch.

So Castiel gritted his teeth and drew his shoulders back. Planting one hand on Ketch and the other on Mary, he drew a deep breath, and  _pushed_. The whiplash cracked through his wings like a snapped cord, and Castiel couldn't keep from crying out and dropping to one knee. But he'd done it; Ketch and Mary were gone.

"No!" the hag screeched in the dark.

Castiel frantically grabbed at Sam and Dean and gave one final, tremendous flap of his broken wings, propelling the Winchesters into the ether and back to where they'd left the cars. The pain was crippling, and Castiel collapsed onto his side and curled in on himself as spasms rippled through his wings and down his back.

Something hissed above him, though he couldn't see through blurry vision.

"You  _wretch_." There was a swish of fabric. "Fine. At least I get to keep one prize."

He felt something lightweight and latticed fall over him, yet the instant it did, his limbs went completely numb. It didn't snuff out the agony in his wings, though, and a second later Castiel lost himself to oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Dean woke groggily to the familiar sound of a monitor's steady beeping. Even in his muzzy state, he knew that was never a good sign…

Prying his eyelids open was difficult, as his lashes felt sticky and glued shut. It took another moment for the blurry pale smudges to coalesce into sterile walls and plain ceiling. Yup, hospital. What the hell happened? They'd found where Mom was, right? And there'd been a sea witch, and a fight…and then Dean couldn't remember. They must have won, though. But where was everyone?

He started to push himself upright in bed, wincing as his arm tugged at the IV line inserted into the crook of his elbow. Okay, that needed to come out.

He was just starting to peel back the skin tape when a nurse walked in.

"Good afternoon, sir, my name is Tracy," she greeted. "Please don't touch that." She went over to the monitors and started doing a run-through of his vitals. Dean had enough experience to know he was stable.

"What exactly am I in here for?" he asked.

"You were exposed to a rare form of sea urchin venom."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "I'm sorry, what?"

"That's what your partner said when he brought you all in. Our tests weren't able to identify the toxin, but it looks like it just needed to work its way out of your system, because you're recovering well."

Dean just shook his head. That was…one of the weirder things he'd heard in his time, and he'd seen  _a lot_.

Wait…

"All?" he repeated, the pulse monitor giving an accelerated blip. "Who else was hurt?"

"An Agent Hathaway and a woman," Nurse Tracy replied calmly. "The woman was in rough shape, but she's doing better. As is your other partner." She moved then to draw back the side curtain, revealing that Dean had a roommate in the hospital room.

His heart gave another stutter.  _Sam_.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dean demanded.

"Yes. Please, sir, try to stay calm," Tracy urged.

Dean held his breath for a moment and took the time to read the monitors by Sam's bed. All the vitals rhythms were stable, too. He let himself breathe. Okay, Sam was fine. Mom was apparently gonna be fine. But how the hell had they all ended up in the hospital like this?

"I need to speak to my partner, the one who brought us in," he said authoritatively.

The nurse pursed her mouth, but nodded. "I'll go let him know you're awake." She left.

Dean dropped his head back against the pillow. Sea urchin toxin…he was gonna have to give Cas some more pointers on coming up with better cover stories. A dull pang suddenly throbbed in his chest, and he looked down to find a gauze pad peeking up underneath the collar of the hospital gown. Frowning, Dean picked at the edges of the tape to lift it, and found half a dozen tiny puncture wounds dotting his sternum. He blinked, and a fuzzy memory of some spiky ball hitting him in the chest flitted through his mind.

Okay, maybe not such a farfetched cover story…

Sam moaned from the other bed and started shifting.

Dean sat up straight again. "Sam. Sammy."

His brother's brow pinched as he clawed his way to consciousness, and if it was anything like Dean's experience, it was gonna take a minute. But finally Sam managed to open his eyes all the way.

"Ungh, Dean?"

"Hey."

Sam craned his head around, mushing his hair against the flat hospital pillow. "What happened?"

"That hangover is apparently from sea urchin venom," Dean replied.

Sam quirked a bewildered brow at him, but then tried to sit up. "Mom?"

"Here, somewhere," Dean hurriedly assured him. "Nurse said she was doing better."

Sam relaxed. "The witch?"

"Dunno yet. Nurse is getting Cas, and he can fill us in."

Except, when the expected man in a suit entered their room, it was not Cas, but Ketch.

"Ah," the Brit said. "Good to see you awake and suffering no lasting damage it seems. Mary is also recovering, and was moved from the ICU not too long ago."

Dean frowned at him. "Where's Cas?"

"The angel was able to transport us out of the cave and back to our vehicles. I immediately drove the three of you to the ER, and not a moment too soon for your mother."

"Transport us?" Sam said dubiously. "How? Cas can't fly."

"It's an ability linked to the wings, but not wholly dependent on them," Ketch explained, though it didn't make things any clearer.

Dean pushed himself all the way upright with a growl. "That didn't answer my question. Where is Cas?"

Ketch glanced over his shoulder at the nurse's station outside. "Keep your voice down," he cautioned with that infuriating tone of patience. "Unfortunately, since as you said, he is unable to fly, he remained behind in the cave."

Dean sputtered. Cas… ' _remained behind_ '? "You didn't go back for him?" he exclaimed.

"The cave-in that blocked our escape was too dense to simply remove. Plus, with the added danger of the hag, I deemed the risk too great. So I placed protective sigils on the rocks to seal the sea witch inside. It's not the preferred method for dealing with monsters, but will do in a pinch."

Both Dean's and Sam's monitors were starting to give off alarms, and they both surged from their beds to switch them off before ripping the lines from their persons.

"You did  _what_?" Dean exploded.

"How could you just leave him there?" Sam shouted.

Ketch glanced between them as though he had no clue why they were upset. "Our lives were on the line.  _Mary's_  life was on the line."

"What about Cas's life?" Sam demanded.

Dean was starting to feel a pain in his chest from his heart pounding too hard. Cas hadn't 'transported' them  _once_  since he'd lost his grace, and not even after he'd gotten the original make and model back, because it hadn't restored his wings. For him to do it now…it must have been a last-ditch, desperate move. Which meant it most likely would have cost Cas. And now he was trapped in that cave with a very powerful sea hag who was probably all kinds of pissed…

Dean frantically looked around for a clock, trying to figure out how long they'd been here. Ketch had already had time to go back to the cave and magically seal it…oh god.

He bent down to check under the bed for a bag of his clothes where hospital staff typically put them. Hopefully nothing had been removed with scissors, as he needed to walk out of here and go straight back to that beach.

Ketch heaved a dramatic sigh. "The loss of the angel is regrettable, but in the end, he's just an asset. I had a responsibility to get your mother out of there."

Dean was going to punch him. Or shoot him. As soon as he found his gun. It wasn't with his clothes, though. But thankfully those were intact, and Dean headed for the bathroom to change. He heard the room curtain get yanked across the tracks, as Sam was apparently going to get dressed out there.

Dean's jean pocket jangled with his keys, which he pulled out and clutched fiercely in a fist. If they didn't get Cas out of this, he was gonna come back and give Ketch a reason to be sticking around a hospital.

The British dickbag was still there when he emerged, looking peeved. "You can't endanger the humans of this town by releasing the witch," Ketch protested.

"Unlike you, we don't run when a hunt gets tough," Dean retorted. "We finish it."

Sam ripped the curtain back, now fully dressed as well.

Ketch rolled his eyes. "Fine. I was going to stay with your mother while she recovers, but I suppose I'll have to wait around and see if I have to clean up your mess again as well."

Again? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Dean didn't have time to dwell on it, though. And while the thought of Ketch staying with Mom when she was hurt and vulnerable curdled Dean's stomach, he had to believe the man didn't mean  _her_  any harm. And they had to save Cas.

Dean pushed his way past Ketch and stormed out of the room, ignoring the sputtering nurse urging him and Sam to get back in bed and wait for the doctor to clear them. They made their way outside and to the parking lot where they pulled up short and scanned the rows of cars. Dean couldn't spot the Impala.

"There's Mom's car," Sam said.

Dean looked where his brother was pointing, and realized Ketch had driven them all to the hospital in that vehicle. Which meant the Impala was still at the beach.

 _Left Baby too_ , he mentally growled.

He had no intention of going back up to the patient wing and demanding the keys, though, and so marched over to the vehicle, Sam on his heels. It was a simple matter of picking the old, non-electronic lock. Dean then slid behind the wheel and reached underneath it to hot-wire the engine.

"Pop the trunk," Sam said.

Dean paused long enough to flip that lever. A minute later, he got the wires to spark, and the engine started up with a purr.

Sam came around to the driver's side door, bearing their weapons from earlier. At least Ketch had bothered to stash them when he'd carted their asses back to town.

Dean holstered his gun while Sam jogged around the front of the car to climb into the passenger side. Then they set off, gunning it back toward the beach.

Sure enough, the Impala was still parked at the vista point, a fine coating of sand dusting its exterior. Dean would have lamented the micro scratches being left in the paint if his thoughts weren't solely occupied with worry for Cas. It'd been hours since they'd confronted the witch and lost that fight.

Yet they weren't armed with anything different as they made their way down to the beach and toward the sea cave. The tunnel was dark this time, the reason clear a moment later when they came upon a thick barrier of rocks from floor to ceiling.

Sam pulled out a small penlight and swept the beam over the obstacle. There was warding spray painted in vermillion red.

Dean clenched his jaw. That bastard.

"You hear anything?" he whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment. "No. But we don't know how thick this is. It could be several feet deep."

Which was not at all encouraging because how the hell were they supposed to get through it in time? Although, maybe Cas had ganked the witch and was just waiting for them to come dig him out. It wasn't like he'd run out of oxygen.

On the other hand, when were they ever that lucky?

Dean spun on his heel and headed back out of the tunnel. Sam's slapping footsteps hurried to catch up.

"What's the plan, Dean?"

"We get in there."

His brother huffed. "Yeah,  _how_?"

Dean didn't answer. He marched all the way back to the Impala and opened the trunk, and then started digging through the weapons under the false floor. Dean had been itching for an occasion to use this, though now that he had one, it didn't fill him with quite as much pleasure as he'd been looking forward to. Still, he was going to make this count.

He hefted the grenade launcher out of the trunk and turned to Sam, whose eyes widened.

Sam swallowed. "Yeah, that works."

* * *

Castiel flinched when the sea witch slit his wrist open with a sharpened scallop. The fishing net that had him lashed to the driftwood altar shifted under the minute movement, causing all the tiny pieces of broken sea glass woven throughout the hemp to slice into his tender flesh as well. Attempting to break free would only cause him more harm, not that he could move. A glacial marrow had burrowed its way into his bones; he could barely feel his arms and legs.

The hag held an oyster shell underneath Castiel's wrist to catch the flowing blood. "I've never had an angel before," she commented, dipping her finger in the dark red fluid and lifting it to her tongue. "Mhmm."

Castiel closed his eyes to shut out her hideous visage. He focused his thoughts on Sam and Dean, hoping they were okay, that Ketch had found a way to cure them of whatever spell the witch had infected them with. He hoped Mary would survive the trauma of having her life essence slowly sucked out. For that's what the hag was doing to Castiel between sessions of bloodletting. She'd collected a full jar already, and while she waited to repeat the process, she would lean over the small nicks made by glass and inhale deeply. Castiel could feel a thread of grace tear and seep out through the wounds like a gossamer mist.

The sea witch paced herself with her meals. Castiel assumed she gained more by keeping her victims alive longer. Given his grace, he wondered just how long she might sate herself on him. An eternity? Or just a few centuries?

Castiel squeezed his eyes tighter. No, Sam and Dean would try to come back for him. Though, with the cave entrance blocked, he couldn't imagine how they would manage it. Besides…it was probably better if they didn't, since the witch had so easily incapacitated them. Castiel didn't want the Winchesters becoming her next victims. Not that common sense would stop them.

He drifted in a haze of pain and ice, shocked into full wakefulness every time a serrated edge drew a harsh fissure through vulnerable flesh. The eerie turquoise glow in the chamber shimmered and pulsed. Was she increasing the time intervals?

Castiel vaguely heard her muttering to herself about magical seals and how she "would not be trapped here." His mind was too muddled to make any sense of it, though.

Suddenly there was a massive explosion that shook the earth and rattled Castiel's skull. Chunks of rock went flying through the air in every direction as dust billowed out like a dragon's belching brimstone. The sea witch cried out.

Castiel coughed and sputtered, shards of glass digging into his skin like barbs. Was it another cave-in? Was the entire cavern about to come down, entombing him here forever?

But no, with the next ragged gasp, Castiel's lungs sucked in a burst of fresh, brine-chilled air. His addled brain immediately produced three words:  _Sam and Dean_. Though the rest of his mind had no idea how to explain it.

Yet as he blinked through watering eyes, he saw two familiar silhouettes storm through the floating haze of dust, all terror and fearsome avengers.

"Hey, bitch," Dean called.

Sam raised his arms, and then the cave erupted in fire.

The hag's shrieks reverberated off the walls as Sam drove her back with the flamethrower. Several sharp reports also echoed in the small space from Dean firing his gun in quick succession. Castiel couldn't keep them in sight, but several moments later, the witch's screaming silenced, and the whoosh of flames cut off. Slapping footsteps pounded his direction.

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed.

Castiel blinked blearily up at two smudged faces. "Sam, Dean," he breathed in utter awe and relief.

"Easy, buddy, we're gonna get you out of here." The older Winchester brandished a knife and began sawing through the fishing net.

Castiel couldn't hold back a wince as the glass grated across his open wounds.

Sam cursed when he tried to grab a piece, and quickly shot his forefinger to his mouth. "Son-of-a-bitch."

"That's my line," Dean growled. "Okay, hang on, Cas, almost there."

The net fell away a moment later, taking with it the heavy feeling of ice in his bones. Castiel began to feel tingling in his extremities with the restored circulation. Unfortunately, it made all the tiny cuts sting with renewed vengeance.

"Is she dead?" he managed to get out, afraid they might be underestimating the hag.

"She's dead," Sam confirmed.

"Yeah, looks like most of her toys are shriveling up," Dean added, glancing around.

Castiel turned his head and squinted. The sea urchins on the shelves were, in fact, curling up into dried out husks, and the shells and clams that had given the chamber an unearthly glow before were now lackluster and pale.

Strong arms slipped under his and heaved him up. The room spun, and Castiel nearly collapsed when he slid off the altar.

"Okay, easy," Sam coaxed on his right, adjusting his hold to sling Castiel's arm over his shoulder. Dean did the same on the left so that Castiel was hanging between them.

"Mary, what about Mary?" he gasped. Considering how weakened he was after being in the hag's clutches, he was worried how worse off a human would be after several days.

"At the hospital. She'll be fine," Dean said. "But what the hell were you thinking pulling something like that?"

Castiel could only assume he was referring to sending them away. "It was…a judgement call. Mary was severely hurt."

They slowly shuffled their way out of the cave and onto the beach.

"It was Ketch's idea," Dean spat, and not as a question.

"Dean," Sam said warningly. "Later. We're almost there, Cas."

Yes, he could see up the sand dune to where the Impala's sleek black exterior stood out even underneath a pewter sky. The stairs to reach it, however, looked quite daunting…

Castiel was breathing heavily by the time they made it to the top, even with the Winchesters supporting most of his weight. Sheer will alone was keeping him on his feet, but the moment he was within two yards of the Impala, he stumbled, his body finally betraying him.

"Easy, easy," Dean murmured. He and Sam carried Castiel the rest of the way and eased him into the backseat where he happily collapsed.

"I'll drive Mom's car," Sam said.

Dean made a noise of agreement, and a moment later the front door opened and then shut. "Hang in there, Cas," he said as the key turned in the ignition.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled into the seat cushion, eyes having fallen closed. He was in good hands now.


	4. Chapter 4

Even though they were in separate cars, Sam and Dean seemed to be thinking the exact same thing when Dean didn't lead the way back to Mom's hotel, and instead found a cheap dive less than a mile away. Cas was a mess, and there'd be no walking him through the fancy lobby to the elevator. Plus…Sam didn't want Ketch coming by and being anywhere near the angel right now.

He did want to check on Mom, since they hadn't had time to see her back at the hospital, but Sam would have to content himself with knowing she was going to be all right. Cas was the one he wasn't so sure about at the moment.

He parked Mom's car next to the Impala and went to rent a room from the motel clerk while Dean stayed with Cas. After Sam had a key, he and his brother then helped the angel out of the backseat and into the motel.

Cas could still barely keep his feet, and nearly tripped over the threshold on their way inside. The brothers steered him to the bed closest to the door and eased him down. The mattress sank beneath him, and Cas instantly started to fall backwards. Sam and Dean hurried to catch him, helping him lay down the rest of the way slowly.

"Do we have the stuff for the soul energy spell?" Dean asked.

Sam's jaw tightened. "No." But the next thing on his to-do list would be to make up satchels of the stuff to keep stocked in the Impala.

He got out his phone and pulled up the web browser to start searching for shops in the area that might carry what they needed. The good thing—depending on how one looked at it—was they'd done the spell so many times when Cas was recently injured that they knew it by heart, and so didn't need the book with the ritual that was back at the bunker.

"It's all right, Dean," Cas said tiredly. "I just need to rest."

"What did I tell you about that?" Dean growled in return, then pivoted back toward the door. "I'll get the first-aid kit."

By the time he came back with it, Sam had found a small specialty store that should carry the ingredients they needed.

"Okay, I'll go get the stuff," Dean said, passing the med kit to Sam. He was out the door as quickly as the first time.

Sam turned to Cas, who was laying on the bed with his eyes closed, breaths still wheezing in what sounded like a painful rattle. His face looked like an exaggerated advertisement for one of those Gillette razors with skin guards. His hands were just as bad, and there were several angry red gashes on his wrists. Sam's stomach turned at the image, but at least nothing was bleeding anymore.

He went over and sat on the edge of the bed. Cas opened his eyes as the mattress dipped, gaze flicking down idly to the first-aid kit.

"This is probably gonna sting," Sam warned as he opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dampened a gauze pad with it. Even though angels weren't typically prone to infection, who knew where all that nasty sea glass had been, or what kind of algae or protozoa had been growing on it.

Cas remained rigidly still as Sam cleaned out all the small cuts, though the lines around his mouth kept tightening the longer the process went on. Sam grimaced in sympathy, and tried to be gentle. He hoped Dean would be able to get everything they needed for that spell, but until then, he was gonna patch these up the only way he knew how.

"Do you know what the sea witch was doing?" he asked as he dabbed some antiseptic on the nicks.

"Draining life energy," Cas replied as wearily as that sounded. "And I think she was collecting my blood for a spell of some kind. Something about a magical seal?"

Sam paused in his ministrations to clench a fist. "After you got us out, Ketch went back and placed sigils on the cave to seal her in there. And you," he added angrily.

Cas blinked at him. "Oh."

"Oh?" he repeated. "Doesn't that piss you off that he  _left_  you there to die?"

Cas's brow furrowed. "Well, it doesn't surprise me."

Sam just shook his head and resumed tending the wounds.

"It's not as though the wards kept you and Dean out," Cas added after a moment. "Even if I had known about the sigils…I still would have believed you'd come for me."

"Damn straight," Sam scowled.

Cas was silent for several beats. "But, I would prefer not to work with that man again any time soon. It's…vexing, to be treated like a…a hammer."

Sam looked up, but Cas's eyes were averted. "The problem's with him, not you."

"There are many people out there like him," Cas said with a quiet sigh.

Sam's mouth turned down. "You know…I used to feel that way, back when I had my psychic powers. There were a lot of hunters who would have written me off as a monster. Hell, my own dad told Dean he might have to kill me one day."

Cas frowned.

"I know it's not exactly the same," Sam hurried to say. "I just mean…the people who care about you, they matter. Not anyone else. And definitely not people like Ketch."

Cas regarded him with that intense, soul staring gaze that so clearly delineated Cas as that something other. "It is the same," he said after a moment. "And…thank you, Sam. For everything."

Sam quirked a small smile at his friend.

His cell started buzzing then, and when he glanced at the screen, his throat tightened. Speak of the devil…

Sam almost didn't answer, figuring Ketch was just calling to check if they'd made a mess of things with the sea witch. But, on the chance it had to do with Mom, Sam couldn't not answer.

He swiped the green bar and raised the phone to his ear. "Is our mom okay?"

"Yes," Ketch's British accent sounded through the speaker. "She even regained consciousness for a short time. Her strength is returning."

Sam closed his eyes in relief.

"And what of the other matter?"

Sam's chest burned with fury, as that question could be taken one of several ways. "The witch is dead," he said stiffly.

"Ah, well, excellent. And I take it you were able to retrieve your…friend, without any trouble?"

Sam tightened his grip on his phone; he could just hear the condescension in the way Ketch cheekily used the word 'friend.'

"No thanks to you."

"All's well that ends well," Ketch said blithely.

Sam hung up, and roughly tossed his phone on the bed.

Cas was gazing at him with more sympathy than Sam deserved, considering the angel was the one bearing the brunt of this asshatery. "Thank you for defending me," he said sincerely. "Back at Mary's hotel."

Sam's brow pinched in confusion. "Of course, Cas. No way we'd stand for anyone to treat you like that."

Cas let out a rueful looking smirk, and Sam was suddenly, painfully reminded of all the times he and Dean had been guilty themselves of treating Cas like crap. At least they were doing better now, like they'd promised. But Sam felt sick remembering when he'd acted as atrociously as Ketch…like the time he'd called Cas's vessel 'it.' There was no forgiving that.

Cas didn't even know about that instance, though there were many others ingrained in the angel's mind, Sam knew.

He reached out to squeeze Cas's forearm. "Get some rest. Dean should be back soon."

Sam watched his friend's eyes slide closed and his breathing even out as Cas sank into a meditative state, or just plain sleep; it was hard to tell when he was this weakened.

But he was back and he was safe, and Sam and Dean would do what was needed to get Cas back on his feet, too.

* * *

Dean walked into the hospital the next morning, prepared to pick up his mom so they could all start heading back to the bunker. He'd visited her the night before, and she was recovering enough to be discharged the next morning. Though she looked like someone had attacked her with the might of a thousand paper cuts.

Cas was doing better, too, after a few doses of soul energy from Dean and Sam, despite his protests. The angel was just gonna have to learn to accept some new ways of doing things.

But when Dean walked into the patient room, he pulled up short at the sight of Ketch talking with Mary, who was already dressed and sitting on the hospital bed.

"What are you doing here?" Dean blurted.

The Brit arched a brow. "I'm here to drive Mary home, of course."

"Excuse me?" Dean shot his mother a questioning look. "Sam will drive your car back to the bunker with you."

Mary shifted awkwardly as Ketch's eyes widened.

"Oh, I see," he said. "Mary, I thought…"

"I'm going back to the British Men of Letters," Mary interrupted, eyes fixed on Dean. He could only gape at her.

"You're… _what_?"

"I'm working with them now," she explained.

Dean sputtered soundlessly. "Still?" he nearly shouted. "After what this asshat did to Cas?"

"That was a dumb call," she replied firmly. "But you and Sam were able to save him."

Dean's jaw slackened, unable to believe what he was hearing. "And that makes it okay? Just like since Cas was able to heal Sam's foot, it doesn't matter that these bastards tortured him with a  _blowtorch_?"

"That was one person," Mary started.

"Not from where I'm standing," Dean cut her off. "Or from where Cas was yesterday afternoon when a sea witch was draining the life out of him. After helping us rescue  _you_."

"I'm not saying the Men of Letters are perfect," Mary stressed. "But they do get results."

Dean snorted and pivoted away, unable to pace very far in the small room. "Oh, I've seen their results."

"I do wish you would understand," Ketch spoke up. "Our motives are purely out of a desire to protect humanity from the things the everyday man can't protect himself from. To prevent further death." His expression softened. "I am glad you recovered the angel."

Dean snapped, and surged forward to slam into Ketch, shoving him against the wall. "His  _name_  is Castiel. And if you ever come near him again, I will shoot out your kneecap."

"Dean!" Mary grabbed at his arms, trying to pull him off. Her grip was weak, though, and she ended up sagging a bit.

Dean immediately pushed away from Ketch and braced her, easing her back toward the bed.

"I'm fine," she breathed, waving him off.

Ketch tugged his suit jacket down. "I maintain that you have developed an unhealthy attachment to the halo."

Dean bristled, and if he wasn't currently torn over concern for Mary, he'd go over there and punch Ketch for real this time.

But that concern for his mother only went so far. Dean stepped away from her.

"Cas is family." He glared at Ketch, then turned a piercing look on Mary. "You want to choose these dickbags over family? Fine, that's your call. But then don't come back. Ever."

Mary quirked a brow at him in disbelief. "What? Dean…"

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, ignoring his mom calling after him. She'd made her choice, and left him no choice but to make his, even though it drove a wedge into his heart like a crater.

Dean steeled himself against that grief. The truth was Mary had walked out on them a long time ago, shortly after she'd been brought back. This time was just more final.

And Dean would need to see about changing the bunker locks, or upping the warding against certain unwanted humans.

At the moment, though, it was time to go home.

He drove back to the cheap motel where he and Sam had stayed with Cas. When he walked through the door, he found his brother standing over the angel, a hand pressed to Cas's forehead and a golden aura simmering beneath his palm. Cas was sitting in the kitchenette chair, eyes closed. A few more of those superficial cuts on his face and neck slowly melded closed and smoothed out.

"Nice to see you following the doctor's orders," Dean said glibly.

"Neither you nor Sam are doctors," Cas replied, opening his eyes to shoot Dean a pointed glower.

"I don't know," Sam interjected. "We seem to be getting pretty good with angel care. Hold still."

Cas had been starting to fidget, but he fell still and waited for Sam to finish. A few beats later, Sam removed his hand, ending the energy transfer.

"Better?" Sam asked, though it was clear from his tone that he already knew the answer was yes.

Cas nodded meekly. "Much. Thank you."

"Good," Dean said. "I'd like to get on the road."

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked around, as did Cas.

"Where's Mary?" the angel asked first.

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked, and he did his best to keep any emotion out of his tone. "She's staying with the Brits."

Sam shot him an incredulous look. "What?"

"It was her choice," Dean said sharply. "And she doesn't care that they have no conscience or who they hurt to get the job done." He hesitated. "I told her not to bother coming back, if that's how she felt."

Sam's brows rose sharply. "What?  _Dean_."

"Don't, Sam," he snapped. "After  _everything_ , you really gonna stand there and tell me you're okay with her working with those bastards?"

" _No_ , but…we can't just cut her out of our lives. She's our mom."

"Yeah, she's blood. But you know what, family don't end with blood—and it doesn't start there, either. She's choosing the British Men of Letters over us. And I'm choosing you and Cas over her."

"Dean…" Cas spoke up quietly.

"No, Cas." He ran a hand over his hair. "Look, I appreciate what you went through helping us save her. What you put up with. But I don't want you doing that again. I would never trade you for her, you understand? Or for Sam. The three of us," Dean gestured between them, "is all or nothing. So the next time we're in a crap situation and the end is nigh, we face it  _together_. You got it?"

Cas's eyes wavered solemnly, but he bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Dean nodded in staunch resolution. "Now let's go home," he said gruffly.

With somber miens, Sam helped Cas up while Dean grabbed their bags, and they headed out to the Impala. It was gonna be a long drive, but they were used to that. They were used to other things as well, like loss and grief and betrayal. So even though this thing with Mom hurt right now, Dean knew they'd get through it. He'd see them through it.

Because he protected his family. No matter what.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more sequel after this! We haven't seen the last of Ketch...
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading, leaving kudos, and commenting!


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